


Never Alone

by a_little_chai



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Castiel (Supernatural) Has Mental Health Issues, Dean Winchester Uses Actual Words, Don’t know how that happened, Drunk Dean Winchester, Explicit Language, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, I will probably regret posting this but it’s midnight so who cares?, Kind of OOC Cas but that comes with the territory, Love Confessions, M/M, Roommates, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Stop Hurting Cas 2k19, Suicidal Thoughts, Triggers, always trying to bring that tag back, you can’t stop me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_little_chai/pseuds/a_little_chai
Summary: Castiel thinks he’s alone.Dean shows him he never will be.AKA: They hurry the hell up and kiss. It just takes a wake-up call first.





	Never Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y’all! Hope you enjoy reading this! 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS ABOUND!! 
> 
> • graphic depiction of self-harm, and discussion of it happening from a young age  
> • frank talk of past suicidal thoughts. 
> 
> Please stay safe!

He could feel it. Want curling under his skin. It ran through his limbs, until his hands were trembling and he could hardly hold the blankets clutched up to his chest. Stole into his brain until every thought seemed to be resounding with need inside his skull. 

It seemed so close, so easy to just _do it_. A few steps, a light switch flicked, and he’d be free from this ache. 

His fingers curled into his palms. Sparks of pain ran from the bite of his nails. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

He was alone, in the dorm room. It was past eleven, but Dean was still out with some friends at the Roadhouse. And on the night before his exam, no less. Only a Winchester would get shit-face drunk staying out ‘till midnight, then ace a test the next day with a hangover that made him puke if he looked at food the wrong way. 

Of course that was the man he had to have a huge crush on. 

The thoughts of Dean, green eyes and a beaming smile, pierced through the heavy veil of nothing that filled him. Maybe, one day, he’ll be wrapped inside those arms, safe from the world. Maybe he wouldn’t be alone. 

But, inevitably, the darkness took over. The nails weren’t enough. They never were. A moment of pain, fleeting and superficial, couldn’t satisfy the need inside. To feel something. Anything. 

His movements were mechanical as he flipped back the heavy covers. Feet barely made a sound as he walked to the corner and turned on a light. The sudden brightness made him squint. 

He rummaged through his drawers, until his hand found what he was looking for. A tiny bag, which held his darkest secret. 

Sitting back on the edge of the mattress, he looked at the small black pouch. Three weeks, he’d been clean. It only took one bad thought to send him totally off the rails again. 

He unzipped it. Inside, there was only one thing. The thin sliver of metal, taking from a handheld pencil sharpener. It was clean, shining. Without a stain. 

At first, he ran it only softly over his skin. A whisper across his chest, a murmur against his wrist. It sent chills running through him, but it wasn’t enough. Of course it wasn’t. 

He didn’t have scars. Some may say he was lucky, but it felt like a curse. No matter how deep they were, how much blood stained his skin, it never lasted. Shucking off his boxers, he stared at the unmarried flesh. 

And, sitting on the bed naked, he pressed the blade down against his hip. Hard. 

The minutes passed. He lost track as more red stained him. It got on the shining metal, on his fingers. A tear fled, running down his cheek. 

There was a soft click as the door opened. He stopped, tearing his gaze away from blood. And there was Dean, carefully trying to close the door. It was nearly silent as it shut. 

His heart hammered in his chest, hands shaking from where they still held the blade. There wasn’t time to clean up, to put everything away. There wasn’t time to do anything but sit there, watching as Dean turned around. 

His eyes were as green as ever. A faint blush was in his cheeks, which only got worse as he took him in. 

“What the hell are you doing, Cas?” He said, his voice a forced whisper. He spun around quickly, staring at the door. “Cover the fuck up, man. I don’t need to see that!”

He wasn’t sure if it was relief or disappointment. He didn’t want Dean to see him like this, _broken_. But.... 

There was a part of him that longed for it. To come clean about everything to the man. His crush, the cutting, everything. 

He quickly pulled his boxers on, trying not to think about the fact that Dean had seen him naked.

_(Shit, Dean had seen him naked!)_

“Sorry, Dean.” His voice was so soft he could barely hear it. There was a faint tremor running through it, similar to his hands. Adrenaline from nearly being caught was making his heart beat too hard against his chest. 

Dean slowly turned around, sighing when he saw he was decent. “What did I do to get the honor of you _au natural_ at midnight?” He wiggled his brows suggestively. “And does it come with a lap dance? ‘Cause I could get on board with that _real_ quickly.” 

God, he hated it when he did this. Flirted drunkenly when he didn’t mean it. There was nothing behind the words beyond too much beer and whiskey. 

“I was hot.” 

“You’re always hot, Cas.” 

He tucked the blade deeper into his palm as Dean came and sat down next to him on the bed. He could feel its sharp edges pressing into the skin there. 

“Go to bed, Dean. You have the Lit test tomorrow morning, and you’re drunk off your ass.” 

He moved to lie down, but hissed at the pressure it put against his shredded hip. He quickly looked up at Dean to see if he noticed. And, under all the drink, there was worry. 

“What’s wrong, Cas?” He put an arm on the small of his back, leveraging him back up until he was sitting. He almost leaned back into the touch. Almost.

“‘s just a bruise.” Castiel responded back, desperately avoiding Dean’s gaze. He wasn’t sure he could keep the lie out of his eyes. 

“If it’s just a bruise, why’s there blood soaking through your boxers?” The comment was lacking the usual sarcasm, and underlined by genuine fear. So different than Dean normally. “What the hell is wrong?” 

_“Shit!”_ He scrambled to cover his hip with the blanket, but Dean had already seen. Fuck, he’d forgotten that they were white, of course the blood went through.

The blade, tucked so neatly against his palm, slid out onto the duvet. His cut hand bled more onto the fabric. 

He watched, petrified, as Dean picked up the tiny sliver. It was still stained with his blood. Every bit of drunkenness fled from his face, being replaced with only fear and concern. 

And, a moment later, understanding. 

“Jesus,” Dean ran a heavy hand through his hair, only messing the tangled strands up more. “Why? Why would you do... do _this?_ ” 

A million thoughts ran through his head. Should he tell the truth, or another lie? But the words were already spilling out, hateful and vile. It felt like poison hearing them said aloud, even if he was the one saying them.

“No one cares. That I’m alive, that I’m here. Even that I’m broken.” He whispered the words, fighting the urge to just scratch and claw at his skin even with Dean right there. To rip himself apart with his bare hands. 

“I care, Cas. I care.” The hand, which had been lightly brushing his back, pulled him into Dean’s side tightly. He melted into the embrace. “How long?” 

He didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to do anything but bask in the warmth of another person. 

“How long?” 

“...since I was fourteen.” 

Dean let out a low groan, and the embrace got a little tighter. He simply sat there, fighting back tears. 

He could hardly believe it. That someone was here, holding him without running away in disgust. That he wasn’t alone. It was more than he could’ve hoped for, more than he had ever dreamed. 

“I never thought I’d make it to college, y’know?” His voice was muffled by Dean’s shoulder. “Every year, I thought that would be when I finally went through with it. That I would give in and just slit my wrists and be done with it.” 

A choked sob rose in his throat, which he desperately tried to keep down. He focused on the heartbeat in Dean’s chest, strong and regular. 

“I’m just so... so alone. No one likes me, no one cares about me. I could’ve died years ago and no one would think twice.” 

He heard Dean’s breath stutter, and his chin rested on his head.

“I’m here. I’m here and I care so damn much, Cas. Please, please, I care.” Hearing that, tears finally started to run down his cheeks, soaking into the fabric of Dean’s shirt. 

“Why? I’m disgusting, broken. A freak. A monster. Why... why would you give a singular shit about me?” 

There was a pause, a moment of silence in the room that was nearly deafening. Cas could only brace himself for the rejection. For Dean to agree with him and leave, like so many others. 

It never came.

“Because I love you, Cas. I love your messy hair and that stupid coat you always insist on wearing. I love your beautiful blue eyes. I love how you add little halos above your I’s instead of dots. How you cared enough about those damn bees in the courtyard to start a petition to stop the school from taking down the hive.” 

Dean pulled back, and Cas could only look into his eyes. Breathtaking gold and green all swirling around in the iris. They were glistening. Shining, like gemstones. 

“I love you so fucking much. Please, just stay. Don’t... don’t...” 

There was so much pain, on his love’s face. Dean blinked, and a tear ran down his freckle-spotted cheeks. Cas lifted a shaky hand and brushed it away. Then wrapped it gently around the back of his neck, and leaned in. 

Their lips slotted together. Everything else washed away. His brain wasn’t screaming at him that he wasn’t good enough, that he didn’t deserve this. He wasn’t aching for pain. No, all he felt was Dean. How soft his lips were, how warm his breath. 

They broke apart after a moment, and Cas could only look down at their clasped hands. His hip still pulsed with pain, but it was muted. There was still blood staining his hand, but some of Dean’s tears had washed it away. 

And, suddenly, he didn’t feel as alone anymore. 

“I love you too, Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, leave a kudo or comment, even if it’s only a few words. They really make my day! 
> 
> Thanks.
> 
> ~You are loved, and never alone. We are here for you, and you are enough.~


End file.
